About lights and tunnels
by EveLGW
Summary: A conversation between two unlikely ... friends. Takes place after "Hell's Bells". X/Anya, B/S


Spoiler: Up to "Hell's Bells". Takes place right after the episode.  
Rating: PG-13 for a few choice words.  
Keyword: Angst.  
Summary: A conversation between two unlikely ... friends.  
Disclaimer: Do I look like someone who only lives for messing with the heads of innocent BtVS fans?  
Dedication: For Sheri. Without her this one would have never made it. You rock my world! :-)  
A/N: For the sake of the story let's pretend that "Normal again" never happened. Oh, you already do? Well, then here we go ...  
  
  
About lights and tunnels  
by Eve  
  
He sat at the bar, nursing his fourth or fifth beer. He neither remembered exactly how many it had been, nor did he care about it. The only thing he knew was that the alcohol was starting to make his mind go numb and that this was a good thing. A very good thing actually. He wanted to stop his thoughts from turning around in circles, wanted to forget what had happened. Wanted to forget that it was over.   
  
'I'm sorry.'  
  
He squeezed his bloodshot eyes shut and pressed the balls of his thumbs against his closed lids, willing the mental image of her face to disappear. Her wonderful, beautiful face, looking at him with that expression ... But just as in real life, she did what she wanted to do and stayed where she was, determined to haunt him for the rest of his life.   
  
'I'm sorry.'  
  
He had believed that they would make it. He had hoped and wished for it with every fibre of his being. He would have given anything to make it work. Anything to get their happy ending.   
  
'I'm sorry.'  
  
He blindly reached for the glass of beer and sighed when he couldn't find it. He blinked a few times, slowly adjusting to the dimness that surrounded him. After his eyes had focused again he continued to stare at the table in front of him for a few seconds before realising that his half-empty glass was indeed gone. His head jerked up and he was about to call the barkeeper, when out of the corner of his eye he saw his glass standing to his right, just out of reach.   
  
"What the-" he managed to get out, before his eyes travelled up the leather-clad arm that lay beside the glass and finally focused on the face of the person who had sat down beside him. Everything else he'd planned to say was lost in the followed groan and a mumbled "Fuck off," after he'd lowered his head and buried it into his folded arms.  
  
"Glad to see you too, whelp," Spike retorted sarcastically. He glanced at the young man to his left who was obviously trying to drink himself into a stupor. 'With beer of all things.'  
  
He snickered quietly thinking that there were dozens of better ways to get drunk when he realised that something about this picture before him felt familiar in a very disturbing way. He frowned and then suddenly sobered up when he made the connection. It was much worse that he'd initially thought. Spike's expression softened before he could stop himself. 'Why are you doing this to yourself, mate?' Not willing to analyse the reason for the sudden sympathy he felt towards Xander, Spike signalled the waitress for a beer and shook his head as he took in Xander's appearance. He was still wearing his now completely crumpled and ruined tux, which looked like he'd taken a few showers in it. Although he'd only caught a glimpse of his face, he had noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes, which made him look much older than he was. Finally, Spike's beer arrived and the vampire was actually relieved that he was able to busy himself with drinking instead of questioning his motives and decision to stay.  
  
After a few minutes, Xander slowly lifted his head and stared at the empty surface in front of him. "Aren't you gone yet?"  
  
"No, still here. But I've heard you went missin'. And probably insane."  
  
Xander's jaw clenched and he turned around to face him. "Look, you've got no idea what happened and I really don't want to listen to your nagging voice." He glared at Spike, reached over, grabbed his beer and drowned it in one swig. Then he slammed the glass on the table and hissed: "You're really, absolutely and completely - in fact I can hardly stress this point enough - the *last* person I'd talk to, no make that even would like to *see* now anyway, so just leave me alone for god's sake!"  
  
'No idea, right.' Spike scoffed. 'I could write a bloody guide book about the dark place you're ascending to right now.' Completely unimpressed by Xander's hostile behaviour he said: "Yeah, I'd already left with my *date* when the fun part of your wedding started, but a friend told me all about your vanishing act." Spike had just dropped the girl off outside the bar - she was back where he had found her a few hours earlier - when he went inside for a drink and walked right into Clem. He had been the one who told him what happened, still dishevelled from the third and biggest fight between the demon and human guests. He had also pointed out the miserable looking figure at the bar with whom Spike now found himself having a conversation with.  
  
"What the bloody hell were you thinkin'?" Expecting to see a grin on Spike's face, Xander was surprised to find a serious and scolding expression there instead as the vampire asked him the same question he had been asking himself all evening.  
  
"That's none of your business. And don't you dare to pretend that you care."  
  
Spike forcefully grabbed Xander's arm and turned him around, wincing a bit when the chip sent off some warning sparks.  
  
"Listen, you stupid git. I couldn't probably care less 'bout you, that's a given." Images of a happy, smiling Buffy came to his mind and his expression darkened further thinking about how this disaster would affect her, hoping that it wouldn't be the last straw. He tightened his grip, sparks be damned. "But this whole thing isn't only about you and your little problems.  
  
Feeling the need not only to defend his decision against Spike but also against his own conscience and the pain that was threatening to suffocate him, he started to blurt everything out before he was able to stop himself.   
  
"You don't know anything. There was this guy who was me - only that it wasn't me but a demon who had this glowing crystal ball thing. He said it was supposed to show me what my future would be like, and then he showed me these ... these horrible things. No happy ending, just shouting and hurting, lots of hurting and Anya and I had two kids, a son and a daughter but only the son was mine and the whole time Anya was looking at me with so much disgust and disdain and at the end I ... I attacked her and I ..." He choked back a sob and tears started to burn behind his eyes. But he forced them back, suddenly remembering where he was and who was listening. He couldn't, *wouldn't* break down in front of him. 'Bit too late for that, isn't it?' he thought in a half-hearted attempt of trying to save what was left of his dignity.  
  
Spike tried to sort through the bits and pieces and added the information he'd heard from Clem. "So, this demon tried to make you break up with Anya by showin' you some fake images about what a nightmare your future would be if you married her. And you did exactly what he wanted. That's it?" Spike demanded to know.  
  
Xander took a deep breath and wished for the lump in his throat to go away. "It doesn't matter that what he showed me wasn't real. I had the real thing 18 years of my life. I know what it's like when two people stay together even though they can hardly stand the sight of each other. It's hell. I can't do this to her. I just can't."  
  
Realisation dawned and Spike took another swig of his beer composing himself before he spoke again.  
  
"Right then. Always figured you as a coward anyway."   
  
Xander shot him an irritated look. "What?"  
  
"You takin' the easy way out at the first sign of trouble? Shouldn't have been surprised by that," he said and made a dismissive gesture. "You're probably also thinkin' that you're being all noble by givin' her up."  
  
"I'm not -"  
  
"Still in denial, I see. Well, you'll get there. Will be too late by then of course. But that's a given, considering it's *you* we're talkin' about." Spike turned around to fully face him and Xander was suddenly met with an intensive stare. "One day you'll wake up and realise that you made a terrible mistake. That you had it all and threw it away without a second thought. *You* of all people should know how difficult, nearly impossible it is to find someone to love who actually loves you back." The truth behind these words stung and Spike realised that this whole conversation hadn't been such a good idea after all. But the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "That's somethin' special and you can't just throw it away, damnit! When you love someone, that person's in your mind, in your blood, they're all you can bloody well think about. They are such a part of you that you can't even bear the thought of living without them. So you fight for it. You'll try everything, *everything* to make it work.   
  
Xander's eyes were wide as saucers and Spike knew that he had his full attention. Spike felt like he'd finally gotten through to him and that was all that mattered at that moment. He would have to deal with his very own aftermath later and he knew it wouldn't be pretty. Pushing the thought away once again, he prepared his last blow.  
  
"She tried to please you, to get to you. She even changed for you. Wasn't very successful I s'ppose but tried to anyway. Do you have any idea what she probably went through when she was suddenly powerless and human? How difficult it must've been to trust you enough to love you? Eludes me why on earth she'd choose you, but she did. And now you're not even man enough to fight against your stupid fear of turning into your soddin' father! But finding you at a *bar* of all places I'd say you're on the best way of losing that fight. " Xander winced at that and his face turned completely pale. "Did you really love her or was your father just a convenient excuse?"   
  
At first, Xander was too stunned by Spike's outburst to immediately process the full meaning of what he just heard. But after a few moments passed, the anger suddenly returned with full force when Spike's words finally hit home.   
  
"I love her. I love her more than my own life. I'd do anything for her to spare her pain. That's why I'm leaving her, damnit! Who are you to question my motives, you soulless monster! You know nothing about love!"  
  
Spike's eyes flashed yellow and he gave off a feral growl, causing Xander instinctively to move backwards. "I bloody well know what love is," he hissed. "But you - runnin' away like a fuckin' coward, leavin' her standing there, crushin' her, destroying everything she hoped for and thought of for the last months - you're callin' me a monster? You love her? Then prove it!"   
  
Xander felt the impact of the vampire's last words like a physical blow. The reality of what he had done, of what he had thrown away suddenly hit him and he finally fell apart. His head buried in his arms again, he didn't even feel the cold hand on his shoulders while they shook with muffled sobs.   
  
He'd thought he would spare her pain if he broke up with her, ending it before he'd cause permanent damage. But it seemed as if he already had. Being faced with his parents and his worst nightmare in full Technicolor, he'd succumbed to his own fears and acted out of despair. He remembered the look on her face, how she had crumbled before his very own eyes when she'd realised that he was serious about not getting married, about leaving her. At that very moment he had lost not only his future wife but also his best friend. He realised that he should have told her about his fears; they should have talked about what was bothering both of them.  
  
Not only about the normal, cold feet-related kind of fears but especially about the things that ran much deeper. He knew that he could trust Anya with his life, with his heart. But he didn't, *couldn't* trust himself. His presence here at a bar made that painfully clear to him. What shocked and scared him most was that he hadn't even questioned his decision to go to a bar and get drunk - it had just seemed the natural thing to do. He got the feeling that it would take much more than a conversation with a vampire to sort through the mess he'd made of his life, probably even professional help.  
  
But then he remembered Spike's words and his jaw set. He balled his hands into fists as he made a decision. He knew that he had probably damaged their relationship beyond repair. He didn't think she'd ever forgive him for doing this to her. But he had to try. He simply *had* to.   
  
"I have to go." He threw a crumpled bill at the wooden bar and was already at the door when he suddenly slowed down and turned his head to the side. The vampire watched him hesitate at first, but then he saw the young man's mouth move and his ears managed to pick up a whispered "Thanks," before he vanished into the night.   
  
Alone again, Spike tried to avoid thinking about why he even tried to help Xander. A guy who'd never let a chance slip to insult him, who'd probably never look at him with anything else but hatred and disgust. And as far as Spike was concerned the feeling was completely mutual.   
  
Chances were that by tomorrow morning Xander wouldn't even remember who tried to talk some sense into him or would simply *decide* not to remember. He'd found out the hard way that the people living in Sunnyhell were quite skilled at selective amnesia, always only remembering and noticing whatever passed as acceptable and suitable for their own opinion on how the world was supposed to be. Nobody would ever find out about their conversation. Spike certainly wasn't planning on telling anybody.   
  
'Still have a reputation to lose.' At that thought, a harsh laugh escaped the black-clad figure and he shook his head. 'Who am I kiddin'? I'm turning into a bloody ponce again. Over 100 years of work down the drain.'  
  
He sighed and fished in his pocket for the packet of smokes he brought along. 'Why do I even care?' But even though he would never admit it to anybody, the news about what had happened at the wedding disturbed him, even pained him. He'd tried to ignore the sickening feeling of familiarity the situation triggered in him but knew at the same time that it wouldn't leave him alone, just like the faces he associated with it. Beautiful, innocent faces - until they crushed his world and left him standing empty handed and alone again. Broken. He knew by first hand that it was really no wonder Anyanka had never been out of work.   
  
Thinking about her former profession he hoped that Xander wouldn't be too late to keep her from making a mistake. And that she loved him enough to forgive him. But they *had* to make it. 'After all they're my bloody light at the end of the tunnel.' He snickered self-mockingly for thinking about it in such clichés. 'Ponce indeed.' Life - or in his case unlife - was what you made of it. Why cling to the lives and happiness of other people, using theirs as a substitute for your own when you could have the real thing? That's at least what he had believed in for the larger part of his existence. But now ... now he knew that some people just didn't seem to get that opportunity to live a real life of their own. They had other things to do, a 'higher' purpose to serve. 'Bollocks. It's bloody unfair to her, that's what it is.' So, the least he could do was to make sure that there were as many happy moments for her as possible, even though they weren't spent with him.  
  
Lighting a cigarette, he stood up, threw a bill on the table, took a long drag and slowly exited the bar.  
  
An elderly waitress who had watched the whole exchange with mild interest collected the money. She noticed another customer signalling for the bill and walked across the room. When she arrived at the table and looked down at the young woman she couldn't help but remark on her tear-stained face.   
  
"Sorry to bother you honey, but is everything alright?"   
  
The blond woman didn't answer at first, only wiped her cheeks dry and handed her the money with a trembling hand. When she finally spoke, her words came out merely as a whisper.   
  
"No, but I hope it will be. I really do."   
  
A sad smile played around her lips as she stood up and left the bar, knowing that she would continue to keep vigil over her old friend until he was home again. 'And after that, maybe ...' she thought to herself, '... maybe I'll try to go and find my own light.' 


End file.
